


Past Lives

by Bizjube811



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 03:56:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11638440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bizjube811/pseuds/Bizjube811
Summary: Just a small thing I've never gotten around to publishing.Nazira finds a scrapbook under Alex's bed. Can she handle the truth of their past?





	Past Lives

     She didn’t understand. How could she? She found the photo album by sneaking around his room while he went to the bathroom.  
    The book itself had to be almost two centuries old. It was full of pictures towards the end, and towards the beginning, rough sketches. The subjects of both the drawings and the pictures were the same, a man and a woman. Sometimes it was just the woman, and very rarely was it just the man.   
    The bedroom door creaked open, but her eyes didn't stray from the pictures. Her boyfriend slowly crossed the room, and froze upon seeing the book.  
     "What is this?" Nazira stared down at the book. Several pages were held between her fingers. Alex hesitantly sat beside her, his face showing worry, his fingers fidgeting with a small ring around his pinky.  
     "That's me." He gestured to a fading photograph, the image on it starting to slide off the paper that held it.   
     Nazira carefully slid the picture out of its sleeve. On the back "March 8th, 1926" was neatly written in black pen. Below that had "poisoned" scrawled in what looked like blood.   
     "Poisoned? What does that mean?" Nazira's fingers shook. The girl in the picture looked almost exactly like her, only the girl in the picture's hair was cut short. Her smile was crooked and painted with some sort of lipstick. The person behind her looked like Alex. He stood like Alex. He smiled like Alex. Everything about him screamed Alex.   
     "It doesn't matter anymore. You should close the book." He gently put his hand on hers, lowering the photo back into the book. She looked up an him and her brow furrowed.  
     "Okay, but what is this? Who are those people?" She questioned slowly, fear and curiosity mixing in her eyes as Alex smoothed down her hair.   
     "They're us. Well, me, and who you used to be."  
     "Who I used to be? What the hell does that mean?"   
     Alex opened the book and plucked out a newer photo. It was obviously Nazira, but in 80's fashion. Her hair was pulled up into Scrunchies, and thick glasses adorned her face. She was young, only a toddler, and she sat on the lap of a woman that was a spitting image of her mother.  
     "This is you. You were only six years old. You gave me this photo a few years after your mom died."  
     Nazira fiddled with one of the strings on her hoodie. Her face was blank, her eyes glazed.  
     "You loved to sing. Back in the 20's," he hesitated before speaking again,"You'd sing for the patrons of speakeasies." He quickly pointed to another picture, as if he were afraid you'd stop him.  
     "When you were in high school, you always wore these thick glasses. And you loved putting my hair in ponytails. You'd listen to the most absurd music. Nirvana and STP and things like that. You lived in Seattle at the time, of course. You believed that the city was yours, especially at night."  
     Alex stared at his shoes, afraid that if he said anything else, Nazira would leave him by choice. Instead, she leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. She chewed on her lip, thinking of something to say to him.  
     "Alex, how old are you?" She kept her eyes closed, the strained silence becoming unbearable.  
     He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.   
     "My body, twenty. My mind, eight-hundred and thirty four. I was born in 1186 AD, somewhere in Europe. I don't care to remember where."  
    Nazira nodded, "How old am I then?"  
     "19, of course."  
     "Of course?" She looked at him curiously. Her eyes were glistening and her fingers shook.  
     Alex fidgeted with his ring again. It was small and made of brass, and it had words etched in them. They were faded beyond recognition, but must have meant something to him. He slowly pulled her into a tight hug, holding her to his chest and sniffling into her hair. The hug went on, in Nazira's perspective, for years. In Alex's, it was mere seconds.  
     "If I was alive decades ago, but I'm only 18, then I've died, right?"  
     He, again, didn't answer. He reached over and pulled several weathered pictures out of their holders, and flipped them over.

1888- murder

1925- poisoned

1965- riots

1997- heroin 

     And there was a recent photo, taken just weeks before at Nazira's 19th birthday party.

202  -

     "Oh. Oh my god, did you live through all of this? Are you going to watch me die again?"  
     He nodded and held her tighter.  
     "My existence has been spent trying to find you and watching you die. I re-watch your death every time I close my eyes.  
     "I spent the first fifty years trying to find you, after that it was a piece of cake. Your reincarnations had patterns; at one point you were reborn into a Russian princess. God, you were beautiful. You always are."  
     He was met with silence. He sat there wondering if she was searching for the words to say, but didn't have any. Alex looked down and gently smiled. Nazira had fallen asleep listening to his heartbeat. He shifted and kissed her head before picking her up. Cradling her in his arms for a moment, he took in her features the best he could before she would be pulled away from him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Soooooo... if anyone has any ideas, I'll totally continue this. I can be found on Instagram @bizjube811


End file.
